


Long Sleeves

by cowboykylo69



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Affairs, Angry Sex, Angst, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Divorce, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Name-Calling, Nudity, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylo69/pseuds/cowboykylo69
Summary: Part 1 of a chaotic summary of the trials and tribulations of you and Charlie’s blossoming relationship.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

_LATE AUGUST - NEW YORK_

The last box was the lightest. You had dropped the before last one at the front of your door, propping it open as you tipped the moving men at the front of your little short lawn, outside of your new place. Your own place, hours away from everything you knew, away from everything you were familiar with. Fucking finally.

You thanked the moving men again, lifting your last box filled with your favorite books off of the ground and turning to head back inside, to unpack your things, your life. You watched as someone next door, a new neighbour, a new face, made his way out the front door and down his adjacent short lawn. He looked at you, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Oh, hi.” You waved, as best as you could with your box in your hands. You think you saw him smile. The stranger looked at you, then towards your front entrance. He was easily the prettiest man you had ever seen, you felt starstruck, a little breathless even.

“I didn’t realize that apartment was for rent.” He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding.

“Uh yeah… I don’t think it was up on the market too long, maybe about a month before I got it.” You shrug. The stranger looks surprised. _A month_ , he mouths to himself, like he couldn’t believe it. Maybe he hadn’t noticed? Maybe he had been busy.

“Oh shit, I’m being rude, I’m so sorry, I’m…. I’m Charlie.” He seems flustered all of a sudden, coming closer to the short fence that divides the both of you, extending his hand. You shuffle the box so that it’s resting on your hip as securely as possible, reaching out to grab his hand. His hand engulfed yours, like a weighted blanket ensconcing a small child, it was comforting. Charlie, what a cute name. You wondered if that was short for Charles or if it was _just Charlie._

You introduced yourself, your eyes never leaving his. _Golden brown eclipses_. He seemed transfixed. You were too, probably. Your hands were still clasped together, he pulled away all too soon.

“Are you new to New York?”

“Yeah I am, actually. That obvious?” You cringed at the thought of looking completely out of place, like a tourist in what was now your own city.

“No, no it’s not obvious,” he shook his head, looking down at the ground, away from you, maybe embarrassed by his assumption, “I just couldn’t tell if your NYU hoodie was legitimate or not.”

Late August called for more chilly weather, the sweater you chose to move in today was unironically your new school's merch, you cringed again at how much of a noob you _definitely_ looked like. You tugged on the ends of the long sleeves nervously.

“Oh… yeah, it’s legit. I start next week.” Why you decided to share that information, you’re not sure. It sort of just slipped out. Why was he making you so nervous? Charlie just smiled at you, nodding, as if he approved. _Not that you cared._

“Henry do you have your stuffed shark?” A new voice, emerging from the same door Charlie had come from. You both broke eye contact after what seemed like a millennium, turning towards the door. A woman came out with a young child, who promptly sprinted out the front door, passed Charlie and touched the car door like his life depended on it, as if the pavement was burning hot.

“Beat you.” He beamed at who you were now guessing was his mom with a child-like, new tooth smile. You giggled quietly, not wanting to stare at Charlie’s kid. The woman shook her head, clearly exasperated.

She noticed you after a moment of walking down the pavement, looking between you and Charlie inquisitively.

“Hello.” She smiled, running a hand through her short hair and smiling at you, then looking towards Charlie, as if silently asking who you were. You introduced yourself again, shaking her hand as well as she told you her name; Nicole.

“I just moved in. I’m a student at NYU.” You told her, glancing over at Charlie who kept a firm gaze on you, his eyes more twitchy now, bouncing from you to Nicole. A shy smile still pulled at his lips, you were thankful for that.

“Oh well, nice to meet you. Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Nicole smiled warmly, turning to Charlie again.

“Sweetie we gotta go, Henry’s already in the car.” Nicole tapped Charlie’s shoulder before heading off to the car to join Henry. Charlie nodded, lips pursed.

“Thanks for the warm welcome.” You smiled, slowly stepping away from the fence that divided you and towards your front door. Your apartments were closely linked together, you wondered if you shared a wall.

Charlie called after you. Your name… it sounded beautiful in that deep voice of his, you regretfully thought. You set the box you were holding down and turned back to face him.

“For some reason some of our mail gets delivered to your place. We had a little agreement with our previous neighbours that they would just pass it along to us…”

“Oh no problem. I don’t mind doing that.” You smiled, hopeful, yearning. For what, you were not entirely sure yet.

Charlie smiled too.

That was the beginning.

_SEPTEMBER - FRONT LAWN_

Pieces of mail sit crisp in between your fingers, you tried your hardest not to bend the corner in your hands as you approached your neighbour’s house.

Charlie’s house.

You walked up the front steps, your feet carrying you up, up, up, closer to him.

The house is loud. It often is.

Yelling. Screaming. Crying. From either one of the Barber’s, all emotions far from foreign to them by now.

You hesitate. You debate just leaving the mail in their box, not wanting to disturb or get in the middle of things. The mail is often your excuse to get to see Charlie more than you usually would during the week. You relish those little moments by the door, in the front hallway, in the kitchen for coffee if it's a cold morning, afternoon or evening. You wonder if he relishes in them as well.

You feel guilty, even for those little moments. But mostly for your thoughts. They’re just that, though; thoughts. No harm can come from thoughts as long as you don’t act on them. It had become your new mantra.

_No harm can come from them if you don’t act on them, no harm can come from them if you don’t act on them, no harm can come from them if-_

The front door swings open, revealing a flushed, stressed and utterly wrung out Charlie. His eyes were red, bags underneath them from days of bad sleep. You could tell. You knew that look yourself as a student. 

The yelling had gotten louder as the door swung open, letting Nicole’s voice reverberate throughout the halls and into the outside world. It faded into the distance again as the door slammed behind him. He said your name. You stammered.

“The mail.” Was all you managed to get out. Charlie looked down at your hands, holding out the mail out in his direction. He took it from you, stuffing it in his coat pocket before sighing loudly.

You wanted to ask if he was okay but you knew the answer, he had told you the answer before. A divorce was not a simple thing to explain.

Charlie talked to you about lots of things, you liked to think that he enjoys talking to you. He’s talked about his plays, the theatre, his projects, his untitled projects, he talks about Henry, he even talks about Nicole on occasions.

But Charlie did not talk to you about the divorce proceedings.

And that was okay with you.

“Would you like to go get coffee?” You asked, harmlessly, harmlessly, harmlessly.

Everytime it was harmless, you told yourself. Sometimes this would happen, you would somehow stumble into Charlie as he was in the midst of some disagreement, fight, tornado with Nicole. You would offer a distraction, coffee, a walk around the neighbourhood, some sweets you just baked back at yours. Everything, anything you could give him, you offered.

_Well… not everything._

You twisted your hands together, suddenly unsure of yourself as he just stared at you with those red, tired eyes. Charlie offered you a sad smile, as well after a moment.

“I would.”

_MID-OCTOBER - LIVING ROOM_

“Do you know how to paint a dinosaur?”

Your eyes part from your canvas to glance at Henry’s, then meeting his gaze.

“Maybe! I’m not sure it’ll be good though.”

“Can you show me?” Henry asks, tilting his head closer to your canvas and scooting closer to you. You smile, your heart warming. 

You’re both sitting in your living room, two little easels that you bought for cheap stand on a ton of sprawled out newspapers, protecting your floor from red, blue, purple, green and brown alike. You dip your paint brush into the blue, starting to paint a blob that you’ll add more detail to until it becomes a dinosaur.

“Wait can you make him green!” Henry shouts, more so than asks. You giggle.

“Of course! How silly of me… a blue dinosaur.” You scoff, like the idea of a blue dinosaur was ridiculous. Henry giggles too, eyes focused on your canvas and hand movements.

You glanced at him periodically as you explain your methods behind your misshapen dinosaur. He was such a sweet kid, you couldn’t believe how lucky Charlie and Nicole had gotten with him; he was incredibly smart, curious, artistic and playful. It was a joy babysitting him, you were happy to be brought into their little world, no matter how selfish of you it was to think that way. You very much enjoyed all of their company.

You babysat Henry when his parents were working late at the theatre, when a new play was opening, when there were after parties, rehearsals, when there were fights, burning vitriol. Henry would be brought over next door to you, for an impromptu playdate. You knew he didn’t mind, but you also knew he was confused. Confused as to why his parents kept dropping him with you, and why their eyes looked so tired and worn when he got back. He never asked questions. Neither did you.

You sighed, placing your paintbrush back down on the little ledge, dinosaur, or whatever it really looked like, complete. Henry looked at it, tilting his head at it as if it would give him a better angle.

“He looks... funny.”

“Henry Barber.” You scolded, with a fake gasp, clutching your heart as if his words wounded you. Henry broke out into a fit of giggles and you tackled him, tickling him softly into the newspapers that crumpled underneath him. His laughter erupted into the living room, filling your apartment with childlike wonder, making you laugh along with him.

A knock at the door halted your efforts for revenge, Henry’s laughs settling down after a moment.

“That’s probably your dad.” You said, trying to act excited, trying to get Henry to mimic your expression, to feel actual excitement to see his dad again. The reason for his visit today was due to a fight, a really late one, actually. The latest one so far, it was nearly midnight now. You had made him some pasta when he came over initially which was around 9, then watched a movie together. Later, Henry had been hit with a sudden burst of energy. You two put some music on, danced around the apartment, then built a blanket fort, and then decided to paint as a wind down activity.

Henry only frowned, holding his head low. You ruffled his hair gently, standing up to answer the door. Charlie stood at the door, leaning against the frame, the frown on his face almost as deep as Henry’s. You sighed, mimicking his stance and leaning against the frame as well.

“How is he?” Charlie asked, his voice gruff and hard around the edges, yet soft in the middle, like he was melting. You could tell he had been yelling.

“He’s fine. We just finished painting.” You smiled softly, not sure how to lighten the mood.

“Can… can I see?”

“Of course. Come in.” You held the door open for him before closing it gently. Henry still sat on the newspaper, tearing up the edges and folding them into little shapes.

“Dad, look!” Henry beamed when he saw his dad, suddenly excited to show him what you two had painted. He pointed out all the little shapes and figures on his canvas and then went into absolute detail about how you painted the dinosaur, almost exactly word for word how you explained it to him as you had painted it. Charlie looked back at you and smirked, you glanced away from his stare, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. His eyes always managed to burn holes into you.

Charlie was impressed and you crouched down on the floor and high-fived Henry for your hard work. While you were at his eye level, you asked him,

“Would the artist like a cookie?” Henry’s eyes lit up, looking briefly to his dad, as if asking permission but then quickly shouted _‘yes!’_

“Only one Henry, it’s really late, you need to get to bed.” Charlie said, voice firm, solid, deep. You resent the shiver it sent down your spine.

“Not my fault it’s late, you guys were too busy screaming at each other.” Henry mumbled almost inaudibly, trudging into the kitchen to find himself a cookie or two. Charlie’s shoulders slumped more than they already were when he arrived. You turned back to him frowning, mouthing a soft _‘I’m sorry.’_

“He’s not wrong.” Exasperated, his lip quivered, his chin trembled, voice so, so quiet. He ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily. You reached your hand out and squeezed his arm before you could think twice, holding his firm forearm in your palm, running your thumb along the skin exposed due to the rolled up sleeves of his white dress shirt.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, what do you say to a father of one, going through a brutal divorce, who cries every night, who’s slept on a couch every night for the past month? What do you say? What could you say?

His skin was cold yet burning underneath your hand, you couldn’t stop running your thumb along his flesh. Charlie’s eyes were dark, but you blame that on the poor lighting in your living room.

His opposite hand to the one below where you were holding reached forward and grabbed onto your own forearm, lurching you forward, into his chest. You gasped but kept it hush, not wanting to alert Henry to anything. Your chest collided with his and you desperately tried to search for his eyes, for meaning, for an answer. Why was he doing this?

“Charlie.” You whispered, trying to bring him back to earth. _God_ , his eyes looked so distant, so far away from you, from Henry, from this apartment, from this street in Brooklyn, New York. Where was he?

“I just… I need to hold you, please.” He said with such an assertion that you let him. You let him slouch forward to wrap his arms around your waist, yours going over his broad shoulders, and hold your warm body to his freezing one. His head rested on your shoulder, nose nudging against your neck slightly. You both closed your eyes as you let him hold you for the briefest moment.

_NOVEMBER - PROSPECT PARK_

The bench was cold underneath your legs, the jeans you wore doing nothing to shield you from the blistering cold metal. You gasped at the sensation as you sat down, Charlie chuckled.

Charlie had called you to meet him after a theatre rehearsal, you got coffee for the two of you, knowing no matter how much coffee he drank during the day, he could always use more. He had hugged you when you gave it to him which surprised you a bit. Touching him, being close to him was still so new. It often startled you both.

The walk to the park was short, you both sort of walked aimlessly until you came across this bench and then deciding to sit down and just continue your chat here. You told Charlie about your lectures, he told you about rehearsal. Give and take, give and take. You liked how easy it was, how easy this was, with him.

“- Even when someone forgets minor lines, it’s great to see them improvise and come up with their own. Sometimes it leads to actual rewrites in the play and that makes them feel more comfortable with their characters and the dialogue.” Charlie said, thinking fondly as he recalls to you some of today's events.

“That’s quite the talent, improvising.” You agree, sighing, fighting the urge to lean into him, to rest your head on his shoulder. A silence passes over the two of you, it's comfortable, however. It always is when this happens. It’s nice to have quiet moments together. The park is quiet today, most people still at work in their offices. The chilly weather keeps people inside too.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to let you know, um,” Charlie hesitates, pursing his lips, looking away from you before continuing, “I’ll be heading down to LA for two weeks for the uh… the divorce.” He nods to himself, as if confirming in his own mind that _yes_ , he really is going to Los Angeles.

“I’ll be back after that. I’ll probably need to head out again at some point but I’m not sure when that’ll be.”

“Oh okay. You’ll be back when my finals are over.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood, _his_ mood. You nudge him slightly, shifting your weight onto your side, letting your shoulder bump into his. Charlie laughs and bumps you back. 

_God, you were so easy_ , he thought. Everything was so easy with you. You made it easy to talk, easy to laugh, easy to just exist. You were easily his favourite distraction.

“You can um… you can always call me, if you need something while you’re out there.” You say. You can tell how unsure you sound, you can hear it in the waver in your voice. Why do you feel scared? Why is him going to LA scary to you? Is he scared too?

“If you need someone to talk to, or something. I don't know...” You trail off, maybe it was a bad idea to offer yourself to him like this. He doesn’t need extra pressure, you don’t want him to feel like he has to call you. _Fuck_ , why was it so easy for you to say the wrong thing?

“Only if you want to though. Don’t feel like you have t-”

You let out a strangled _hmph_ , your lips colliding into the softest, plushest pair you had ever dreamt of feeling against yours.

Charlie was kissing you.

_Charlie was kissing you._

And no matter how many times you played out this scenario in your mind, no matter how many reactions you imagined you’d have, being rigid and unsure was not one of them. Should you kiss back? You know he was emotionally vulnerable and you don’t want him to think you were taking advantage of him, but his lips were against yours and they wouldn’t be for much longer if you didn’t do something soon.

You reach your hand up to Charlie’s cheek, his flesh burns through yours, welding you to him. You lean forward, into him, opening your mouth for him. Charlie pulls back, mouth open as well, lips grazing, panting into yours. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He mutters, against your lips, not daring to pull away too far. You can’t help but laugh a little, a nervous reaction you think.

“It’s okay.” Your lips ghost over his, breathing in one another. Shuddering breaths, filled with anxiety, the thought of first touches and maybe even lust.

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

_MID-DECEMBER - APARTMENT_

Charlie didn’t call like he said he would.

He was also supposed to be back over a week ago.

You tried, you tried, you tried to not take it to heart, to not take it personally. Maybe you just missed him. You missed Henry too. You missed their presence, their warmth. You feel bad for not thinking of Nicole as much as you did the two of them, but she seldom talked to you.

It wasn’t her fault though, she could tell you were better friends with Charlie. But you did feel bad for her as well, how could you not? No one deserved to go through a divorce, go through that pain, and to live that pain through their own child, as well.

It was a cruel thing.

The week Charlie was supposed to return went by achingly slowly. It was also your last week of school before winter break. So you tried to lose yourself in your studies, occupy yourself at the library, drown yourself in notes, in books, even your friends. But your mind always crawled back to him. _What was he doing? Was he okay?_

You tried to look at it as a good thing, that he didn’t call. Maybe things were going alright? Maybe he was actually having fun in LA? Maybe spending quality time with Henry and Nicole away from their lives here in New York was good for all of them? _Maybe they would move to LA_.

You took a big sip from your coffee mug that stained the wood of your desk where you sit on your laptop, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. Endlessly, aimlessly. At this point you would do anything, as long as it was a sufficient distraction. You check the time on your phone. Half passed midnight. You groaned, holding your head in your palms. Why were you still awake? 

_Because everytime you closed your eyes you saw him._

Your phone pinged as soon as you had set it back down. You debated looking at it. You groaned and flipped it back over.

**Charlie: Come to the front door.**

Your stomach lurched, your heart stopped, your breathing hitched in your throat, nearly making you choke. You were not expecting that. Charlie was here? Back in New York? At your front door?

Before you could process, your phone pinged again.

**Charlie: Please.**

_Fuck_.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The sudden urge to not see him was overwhelming. You never found yourself not wanting to see Charlie or not be around him, this was a first. You rubbed your hands over your face, inhaling and exhaling loudly as you psyched yourself up to go to the front door. He was probably upset, probably needed someone to talk to. You would listen, you would-

“Charlie.” You opened the door, greeting him. He didn’t look nearly as run down as you thought he would, but he still looked like he had been punched over, and over again over the course of the last, what? Three weeks? It had nearly been a month, you didn't even realize. Not until you saw his face.

He said your name. It never sounded so sweet. Like melting molasses. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to knock and startle you I-”

“It’s fine. Come in, please.” You plead, holding the door open for him. He steps in, stepping closer to you as you close the door behind the two of you. You can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You shiver. You notice the lack of Henry’s presence but decide against asking about it. He was probably still in LA. There would be time to talk about that later.

_You… you’ve never looked so soft, so cute,_ Charlie thinks to himself. He can tell you've been drinking coffee to stay up later than you should. It’s the weekend, you should be relaxing, taking time for yourself. He laughs internally, thinking he should be taking his own advice, for fucks sake.

Charlie debated coming over to you the entire plane ride back, the entire time he was in that taxi, even as he walked up your steps. He stood at the door for ten minutes before he texted you. He told himself he would wait for _two minutes_ , no longer, and if you didn’t come, he would walk next door and sleep in his own bed.

Charlie didn’t want to subjugate you to him more than he already has. He’s in his mid thirties and you’re _easily_ more than ten years younger than him. He has a child and you’re a student, he’s in the middle of a messy divorce and he prays at night hoping you’re single. 

Charlie is not a religious man by any means but he’s prayed for you at night, your body, pressed up against his. One day. He’d take you any way you’d give yourself to him, if you even _would_ give yourself to him, that is.

He’s here to see if you would. If you will.

And if you reject him, that’ll be that. He’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.

But you came to the door, and that lifted Charlie’s hopes more than he would like to admit.

He stands close to you, maybe too close. He can’t tell, he can’t tell because he feels like he can’t fucking see straight. He’s not intoxicated. Maybe he’s crying.

“Charlie?” He looks down at you, he has you nearly pinned against the front door. You look like you’ve just said something to him. Fuck, he zoned out.

“What?”

“I asked if you were okay?” You repeated, your voice so gentle as you trail a hand up his arm and gently squeeze every now and then. Charlie has to repress the urge to moan, to lean into your touch and just melt into you. When was the last time someone fucking touched him in a meaningful way?

Probably when he kissed you on the park bench. Nearly a month ago.

“I just… I just needed to see you.” _You make it okay. You make me okay._

“I’m here, Charlie.” Was that enough of an admission? Charlie decided it was enough for him, enough for now. He pressed you further into the door, hands coming to cradle your face and your hands grabbing onto his wrists, still squeezing. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose. He felt like he was losing control of himself, of everything.

“You’re here.” He repeated, trying to drill those words into his mind forever. You were here for him, that’s what you had told him, right? That day in the park, you offered the smallest part of yourself to him and he didn’t take advantage of it. He was too wrapped up in the courthouse, in trying to appear normal to Henry while trying to get a grip on just whatever the fuck Nicole was throwing him into, completely blind.

You were here for him when he felt truly alone, abandoned by the only family he’s ever known. How would he recover from this?

_He would recover through you. No, with you._

“I’m here-”

Charlie kisses you. Hearts beating in tandem, ribs expanding too much and tongues down another’s throat. Charlie was kissing you for the second time, but this one was much hotter, much needier. He needed something, and you were going to give it to him. You would let him drown himself in you. You would drown in him too.

“Tell me you need me.” Charlie mutters against your lips, tongue still somehow in your mouth. You don’t want to pull away, his lips are too strong over yours for you to form the words so you just nod. Hands moving to his hair, tugging the strands and then pushing his head closer to yours. You need to be closer.

“Tell me you needed me like I’ve needed you.” He wanted a confession. A confession that all this time, not just now, not just in this moment, but from the moment you two met, that you needed him. You felt like crying, you were so ashamed, so _embarrassed_. You arch your back, pressing your chest and hips into his own. You can feel something hot and needy against your hip bone. You’re trying to encourage him, to make him believe you need this just as much as he does.

“I need you, Charlie. I always needed you.” Your voice came out higher than usual, sounding so breathless, winded.

“ _Fuck_.” He groaned, against your lips. You moaned into his open mouth, taking whatever he’ll give you.

His hands trailed down your body, grazing over your ass and coming down to the backs of your thighs and hoisting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. You do.

“Up the stairs, door at the end on the left.” You whisper, mouth always pressed tightly against his. Charlie doesn’t say anything as he brings you both to your room, slamming the door closed behind him with his foot and kneeling on the bed, one hand on your back as the other stabilizes him on the mattress, bringing you down to rest and him hovering above you.

Charlie pulls away for a moment, the sight underneath him is one he’s pictured for months as he’s slept on that pathetic little couch, night after night, visions of you filling his head to lull him to sleep. And here you were, as real as any vision he’s ever imagined. He was almost afraid to touch you, afraid you would disappear into thin air and he would wake up alone on the couch, again. Like he has so many times.

You’re panting, chest heaving, nipples taught underneath your thin shirt. Lips swollen, raspberry red, eyes not normally so dark now blown wide and glossy, an abyss he wants to drown in. You reach a hand out to him, wanting to pull him back into you.

“Please.” You whisper, asking for him to continue. _Begging_ him to keep going.

“What do you want?” He just has to be sure… he can’t begin to believe that you wanted this too.

“You.”

He leans down, hands on either side of your head. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, your breathing coming unevenly, threatening to stop at any moment.

“Again. Say it again.”

“You. I want _you_ , Charlie. I only want you, _please_.” Your mind was reeling, you felt dizzy, out of breath, launched into space without a space suit, no idea how to navigate any of this.

Charlie shifts to let one of his hands roam free over you, using his index to gently trail down your face, your jaw, your neck, over your collarbone, heaving breast, lifting your shirt up so slowly, revealing your flesh to him bit by bit. His hands are shaking.

“Can I touch you? _Please_?” You had never seen Charlie so unsure of himself, so insecure yet so desperate.

“Yes.” Your voice coming out just as breathy as his, completely desperate as well.

His hand splays out across your hip bone, grabbing the flesh into his hand and tugging gently. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the feel of his large hands on you.

After pulling the flesh around your stomach for a while, Charlie trails his palm up towards your breast, which lays revealed to him underneath your shirt. He tugs on the fabric, bringing it up over your head and flinging it across the room, quickly bringing the attention back to your bare chest. He sits up to get a better view of you.

The shirt you were wearing had been so oversized, Charlie hadn’t realized you weren’t wearing any pants. You sat almost completely bare to him now except for your cotton panties, adorned with a little bow at the top. _Cute_.

Realizing how bare you suddenly were, you sit up, coming to meet Charlie and press your lips to his for a short yet sweet kiss. You grab his hands into yours, leading him to cup your breasts in his own palms. He was much warmer now than he had been, compared to when you first opened the door for him.

Charlie audibly moans, resting his forehead against yours as you continue to hold onto his hands which were now moving more confidently along your breasts. He takes your nipples in between two fingers and experimentally pinches them, making you whine in that breathy voice of yours. Charlie groans again.

“You’re… you’re so fucking beautiful.” You kiss him again, as a thank you. Charlie could no longer count the amount of times he pictured what you looked like underneath all your cute little outfits. He pictured how soft you would be, how supple, how angled, how deadly. Nothing lived up to the image he had in front of him right now, nothing could compare to _you_. The real you.

You trail your hand up to his throat, weaving your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and tugging on it harshly, Charlie moans into the kiss and you shove your tongue down his throat when you see the opportunity.

“Take off my underwear.” You whisper, using your hand on the back of his neck as leverage as you gently laid yourself back down on your mattress, nervously twisting your fingers together as you let them lay above your head, stretching your body out for him, so he could see everything he was allowed to touch, _to own._

_You were going to fucking kill him_ , Charlie thought.

His ever shaking hands reached forward, hooking his fingers in the thin material and tugging it off of your hips, down your legs, over your bent knees and then off over your feet.

There you laid, completely bared before him, open, inviting, willing, warm, vulnerable, trusting.

And he still sat completely clothed as you looked up at him from your spot on the bed. It was arousing, you could feel yourself getting wetter, the heat pooling inside of you. Growing quickly, magma rising.

Charlie came to lean over you again, this time pressing down _hard_ with his hips into yours, bruising you. He latched his lips back onto yours. You yelped into his mouth as you felt the hardness of his length press right up against your slit, mingling with the cool bite of his belt against your stomach. You cringed slightly as you thought about how you were dripping down your thighs for him, no doubt making a mess on his nice pants. Maybe he didn’t care. You hoped he didn’t.

His tongue massaged yours, kissing you was so comforting for him, he could lose himself in it. You were so warm, so soft, even your teeth were something Charlie craved to feel against his own, sharp, smooth, and so pretty, clacking against one another as you two became more and more desperate to feel each other on top of the sheets. You bucked your hips up into his as best as you could with most of his weight on you.

Charlie whipped his hand from beside your head to your throat in a fraction of a heartbeat at your display of desperation, the pressure he applied making your eyes roll back into your head slightly. It was so _good._

Your hand reached up to his wrist, daring him, _asking_ him to press harder. Charlie’s pupils swallowed up what remained of the crisp amber. He was not expecting that. He liked it.

The way his entire hand wrapped easily, too easily, around your throat. The way he could feel your pulse thumping against his thumb. He liked that too. You looked so fucking pretty like this. 

Normally Charlie wouldn’t do this, he never did this with… No. He wasn’t going to think about that right now. He couldn’t. Not with you a withering mess underneath him.

Charlie wanted to ask you if this was okay, if he was overstepping any boundaries. But he couldn’t bring himself to, not when your hips were rutting into his like _that_ and you were both so fucking desperate for him. It was obvious. You needed this to be as hard, as rough as he did. It had been too long to go any slower.

He shifted his weight again, leaning on the hand around your throat for a brief moment as he put more weight on his knees, letting his other hand come up from beside your head to continue touching you.

It trails down you slowly, like he knows what he’s doing. _God_ , he must. You can’t imagine how skilled, how experienced this man above you is. Your need, your hunger for him growing each second he avoids where you need him most.

“Charlie-”

Right as you were prepared to begin begging, Charlie drags one finger up the entirety of your slit, collecting whatever slickness has seeped out of you. You gasp, the biggest intake of breath you’ve taken in minutes, your back arching off the bed, your hips jutting out to him for more.

Using his fingers, Charlie pulls your lips apart, the sounds are lewd, you’re so wet, soaking. His hand on your throat pulses, squeezing tighter for a beat and then releasing again, still holding you in place. His head is still above yours as his fingers continue to hold you open, his hot and heavy breath hitting your face with every pant.

“You’re so wet... I don’t understand-” he teasingly pushes a finger into your cunt, watching your reaction as he eases part of it into you before pulling it back out. Your eyelids flutter, your hand around his wrist clutching tightly as you fight to stay present in this moment and not ascend to some astral plane.

“ _Fuuuuck_.” He drags out, pushing another finger into you, slowly pumping them into your dripping heat. He can feel the way your walls constrict, clench around his fingers, you’re so tight, so soft on the inside. He feels like he might pass out.

You bite back a moan, your teeth latching onto the skin of your lip, no doubt breaking the paper thin flesh. Your hips grind into his hand, trying to get more, faster. You can’t begin to comprehend how full you feel from just two of his fingers. You needed his cock and you needed it bad.

His fingers are gone as quickly as they were inside of you. You gasp at the sudden lack of fullness, repressing a sob from leaving your chest.

Charlie lifts those two fingers up to his mouth, wrapping his strawberry plump lips around his digits and _sucking_. Sucking your arousal off of them and moaning, letting his eyes roll to the back of his head as he tastes you for the first time. You watch in awe, not believing the sight before you. His hand on your throat eases up momentarily as he loses himself in the taste of you.

You’re dizzy from how quickly you sit up, hands flying to the buttons of his dress up shirt, trying to pull the stupid fabric off of him with a speed and precision you don’t currently possess. Charlie brings his hand to your chest and pushes you back down, his own hands coming to rip the buttons away from their seams, tugging his shirt off. You watch as his muscles flex as he throws the shirt away, his bare skin finally open to you after months of dreaming.

He’s littered with moles, freckles, marks across his skin like someone painted each one with the precision of the tiniest paint brush, such dedication. You want to lick and kiss each one, but there will be plenty of more time for that another day.

_You hope._

His pecs are huge, taught with a muscle definition you honestly weren’t expecting. He looks just as huge as he usually does even with clothes on. You want to drag your blunt nails against his creamy white skin, you want to mark him, you want to ruin him as much as you want him to ruin you.

His hands pull his belt and pants off with such ease, his biceps bulging with each movement. You want to sink your teeth down into them and bite. Hard. You want him to like the pain.

His tummy is soft, you can see where he used to have more definition and you feel tears welling in your eyes from all the times he’s hugged you and you felt that softness from his belly, and now it was bare before your eyes. You never thought you’d actually get to see it. Never get to see him like this. Get to have him.

Your eyes trail down, down, following the V that creates valleys in his skin, the dark hair growing thicker and thicker the lower you go before you realize he’s now completely bare to you, coming back to hover above your body, cock in hand. You whimper at its size and quickly bring your eyes back up to meet his.

He looks just as nervous as you do.

“It’s… it’s been so long, I haven’t-” He whispers, nudging his nose against yours. You wrap your legs around his hips, tugging him down to you. He lets his cock rub itself through your slick folds, both of you taking ragged breaths, the sensation is enough for you to both lose a piece of yourselves.

“It’s okay.”

“I just want it to be good for you-” You stop his rambling by grabbing his hand into yours, letting it rest on top of your left breast. Charlie squeezes it softly, letting his palm envelop its entirety, feeling the natural warm flush of your skin against his. Suddenly he realizes, or more so feels, what you were trying to show him. 

Your heart, beating wildly, untamed inside your ribcage. _You were just as nervous as he was_. The sweet beat, beat, beat of your heart could lull him to sleep, he thinks. It was so real, so present, so _close_. You were right there, waiting. All he had to do was act. 

You’re both so caught up in the moment that you forget Charlie hasn’t stopped running his cock through your wet folds, his tiny thrusts getting faster by the moment that you’re both cut off by your pathetic moans. You feel delirious, like you might just lose your mind if he doesn’t do something, soon.

In one drawn out thrust, Charlie has sheathed himself completely inside your walls, coming easily to knock against your cervix making your back arch into his chest, his weight pinning you back down into the mattress easily. Your fingers latch onto his meaty shoulders, trying to keep a grasp on reality as his cock fills you like you’ve never been filled before. To the absolute brim.

The moan Charlie lets out is….. is earth shattering, awakening, guttural, beautiful. His arms fall beside your head, coming to rest on his forearms and his nose smudges itself into your cheek, nudging your head to the side. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling _you_.

“How are you…. How can you be so tight- so, so beautiful?” He groans, pulling his hips out inch by inch, leaving just his spongy head in before snapping his hips back into yours. Your legs around his hips bouncing, your breath catching, your eyes rolling back, back, back into your head. He’s fucking huge, you can’t get over it. You hold back a sob deep in your throat, no sound able to come out of you besides the wet ones that leave your pussy as he pounds into you, fucking you into your mattress.

Charlie can’t believe how fucking small you are, how tight you are, how you grip his cock like you were made to be fucked by him. He doesn’t understand. He knows he won’t be able to last long, not when your cunt has this vice grip, this _greedy_ grip on him like you can’t get enough, like you can’t let him pull out all the way before pounding back into you.

Your mouth hangs open below him, your breasts bouncing with each slap, slap, slap of his hips, his thrusts literally punching out the air from your lungs. You think you feel him in your stomach, behind your belly button, rearranging you from the inside.

“So.. so fuck-ING big, _Charlie_ , you’re so fucking- oh my god.” You finally sob, after you manage to inhale a heavy breath from the heady air surrounding the two of you. Actual tears leave your eyes, spilling down the sides of your cheeks and back into your hairline from the ferocity of Charlie’s thrusts. His hand comes to hold the side of your face, holding you in place as he fucks you, his thumb swiping the tears away, his nose nudging your opposite cheek. His hair hangs like a dark halo around him, it tickles your face.

He’s worried it’s too much for you. He’s worried about the fact that you’re crying, that he’s hurting you in some way, he tries to ask but you keep moaning and clenching around him, sucking him deeper inside, simultaneously short circuiting his brain.

“Good? Is it… fuck- is it good? Are you-” He can’t even fucking speak properly, his only fixation is you. A chant of your name fills his mind, making him dumb to everything else.

“ _More_.”

In that moment, Charlie was prepared to give you everything. Everything he’s ever owned, everything he’s ever had, ever been proud of, everything he’s ever cherished. It was yours. Just like that. He would give everything to you, give all of himself to you.

His hips somehow go harder, faster. Reaching that spot inside of you that punched your slurred words and gasping moans from your gut, that made more tears and more sobs leave you.

_He would give you everything._

Charlie looks down and watches how you swallow him up, how your cunt drags him back in everytime like you’ve missed him, like you’ve known him.

Your name, broken, falls from his lips. He’s babbling, his words get more and more incomprehensible the longer you two go.

“I’m, I’m so fucking close… tell me-”

“Me too.” You whimper, eyes shut tight, tears continuing to stream down. Charlie can see how your lips glisten in the low light. Drool pooling, mouth open, inviting. He shoves his tongue down your throat, grinding his hips into yours making your back arch into his, almost as if you were trying to get away from the painful intrusion he was giving to you.

But the pain was pleasure. You think it always would be with Charlie.

“Where- where do you want me to-”

“Inside me. I’m- on the pill.” Your words come out more like hiccups, each one punctuated by Charlie’s harsh thrusts. His hips grew more erratic, the drag of his cock more delicious the harder he grew the closer to his release he got.

“A-are you sure?”

“Come inside me Charlie- _please_ , wanna feel it.” You said, voice suddenly so clear with need in his foggy mind.

Fuck, that was all he needed.

One, two, three, _fourfivesix_ more thrusts and Charlie painted your insides with his name, his painfully hard cock twitching inside of you, sending you over the edge as well. Your body clung to his one final time, clutching him for dear fucking life as you came around his cock, milking for everything he had and he fucking gave it to you.

Colours danced across the back of Charlie’s eyelids, the pleasure that had been building for so long, nearly blinding him now as he emptied himself into your warm, tight, soft, fucking perfect cunt. He had felt lost, like he was drowning, but now he thinks he was finding salvation in you. Resurrection. He felt alive.

He fucked his cum back into you with a few more softer thrusts, both of you groaning into each other’s faces. Charlie slumped forward, collapsing onto your sternum, face in between your breasts as your chests heaved, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern. His fingers unhinged themselves from where they were on your hips, bruises surely already blooming purple underneath your skin, blood rising to the surface.

But the pain was pleasure, it always would be.

_MORNING_

Neither of you had said a word after you both came.

A few more breaths was all it took and you had both passed out, Charlie’s softening cock still nestled into you, his come dribbling out slowly and onto your sheets.

Neither of you could have cared less.

You wanted him to make a mess of you. You liked the mess. You would be so messy for him if he liked that, if he wanted you that way. You would do anything, be anything.

You blamed the jet lag and lack of previous orgasms on Charlie’s willingness to fall asleep so quickly last night… or rather, earlier this morning. You think it was his warm body, shielding yours like a weighted blanket was what put you out.

The two of you had shifted positions during the night. Charlie’s arms held your back so tightly to his chest, legs intertwined with your own as his face slept in the crook of your neck, hot air fanning across the side of your cheek. You could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, nose pressing itself into your skin and you hummed, filled with content.

Yet you couldn’t seem to ignore the relentless flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You wondered if you would talk about what happened last night. 

But did you need to? Didn’t you both, in your own ways, explicitly explain what you needed? What you had longed for?

As if sensing your unrestful thoughts, Charlie stirred behind you, voice incredibly low and gravely, still laced with remnants of sleep and dreams as he said your name, just above a whisper.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” You replied, just as softly. You turned over in the sheets, your noses bumping as you came face to face with Charlie. His eyes found yours, darting between the two, occasionally glancing at your lips. He looked so soft, lips puffy from sleep, eyes heavy, soft breaths through his nose, fanning across your face, soothing you. The morning light made his skin look so warm, inviting, safe, like a chocolate chip cookie with all those freckles. A moment passed.

“I meant it.” He said, unprompted. You knew he had been thinking too.

“I did too.”

_Last night._

He meant it, every word. He wanted you, he needed you. All this time, like you needed him the way you need oxygen to breathe, water to drink from and food to satiate that hole deep within. You tried to repress the smile that dared to split your face but it was hard to in a moment like this.

You were still unsure what this meant for the both of you. How you would figure out to be together yet still being…. ‘unofficial’ in some way, in the eyes of the court. The eyes of Nicole.

But that was something you would figure out together, all in due time.


	2. Long Sleeves (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pushed to its absolute limits; a retelling of the past 4 months of you and Charlie’s complicated relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: for those of you who are not a fan of d*ddy kink but who may still want to read this; i only use it between the time stamps of Christmas Eve to March, following the March timestamp there will be no mention or use of that word! just thought i’d mention cause the ending is cathartic!

_LATE DECEMBER - APARTMENT_

With Henry and Nicole staying in LA until after the holidays, Charlie would be alone with you until he left again.

And he didn’t leave your apartment once in the meantime.

Making up for lost time, is what you could call it.

The hours, _days_ , spent in between sheets, on countertops, on couches, in the shower. Like he was trying to mark your apartment with his scent, make sure you never forgot him when he would leave again for LA in a few days.

You would remember him everywhere.

The way your knees bruised on the tile floor of your shower. The welts on your ass from his harsh hand. The bite marks on your shoulders, the bruises littering your neck, stomach, anywhere he could reach.

You would remember him _everywhere_.

The thousands of ‘ _good girls_ ’ he praised you with and the thousand and one ‘ _fucking sluts_ ’ he punished you with. Charlie was coming to know your insides and outs better than you could at this point, it was a certain level of familiarity you were happy with him reaching. He was becoming more and more comfortable around you.

You could tell not just because of the frequent sex, the hard fucking, but because of how he was opening up to you about the divorce. About what was really going on down in LA, what was happening with Henry, what had been happening (or more so, _not happening_ ) with Nicole for nearly the past year. 

He told you about how she ignored him, refused to have sex with him, even touch him. How he had found solace in a one time affair with their stage director, how he just missed feeling needed, feeling wanted by the only person who was supposed to fulfill that innate human desire.

He told you everything he could think of, every little detail. He was tired of hiding, holding it in.

He realized he would have to tell you when he would get a random call from his lawyer or from Nicole herself, when he would talk to Henry. When he yelled through the phone or hung up crying, slamming his device against the wall, nearly breaking it.

He knew he would have to explain it to you, he owed it to you.

You deserved to know, especially now that he was involving you in this to some degree. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to involve you but he needed you more than he needed anyone else right now. More than he was ready to admit perhaps, just how much he truly needed you.

And that’s why going back to LA would be the hardest thing he’s done all week.

He stood at the door, dressed, suitcase packed, heart lurching, thumping low in his chest with dread, resent, fear, and some feeling he couldn’t fucking name.

_Lo-_

“I wish you could come.” He says instead, the saddest smile you’ve seen adorning his perfect lips. You smile back, just as sadly. You know there was absolutely no reason for you to go to LA with him, to spend Christmas with Nicole and Henry and whatever extended family would be there as well. It would never happen, never work. At least, not right now. Not like this.

The divorce proceedings were on break till after the holidays, both in and against Charlie’s favour. It meant not giving Henry two Christmases, one last normal one. But it also meant pretending, indulging in that… _façade_ that him and Nicole have been keeping up for too fucking long now.

The deed would be done sometime in February, maybe March, Charlie couldn’t remember. He tried not to think about it too much. Think about losing everything-

“I know. But you’ll enjoy yourself. Henry will be happy.” You remind him, letting him hold you so, so tightly. His vice grip, digging into you, trying to anchor himself to you.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you alone during fucking Christmas.” You laugh.

“I’m going home to see my parents, I won’t be alone, Charlie.” He nods his head, hearing the words you’re saying but he still can’t stop the guilt from creeping up on him. He doesn’t want you to think he’s abandoning you. He won’t abandon you, like everyone’s abandoned him. He just hoped you wouldn’t abandon him either.

Charlie presses his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pressing your body against his. Your arms wrap around his neck.

“I’ll call you this time, I promise. Every night… I’ll call.”

“Okay.” You giggle, believing him.

His hand sneaks its way up your jaw, gripping your cheeks gently but angling your face for you to meet his dark, dark eyes. You know that look, so familiar now. You feel the pressure start to rise inside you, heat pooling in the very pit of your stomach.

“You’ll be good for me?” You nod immediately, fervently.

“Yes, Charlie.”

“If I ask you to send me pictures, what’ll you do?”

“S-send you pictures.” Breathless, your voice sounds so breathless. Your eyelids threatening to close but you keep them on him, always.

“That’s my good girl.” He growls, tilting your face all the way to his lips, a kiss, a seal of approval. You moan against his lips, letting your eyelids flutter shut, imagining yourself in all those new lingerie sets he’s bought you over the last week.

_Your early Christmas presents_ , he had told you.

“The… the taxis waiting out front.” You say against his lips, not wanting him to leave just yet, but also not wanting him to leave you high and dry before getting on a plane set for across the country for _at least_ another week, probably longer. Charlie ignores you, shoving his tongue down your throat, his grip on your jaw moving down to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly, fingers ghosting over bruised skin, enough to make you fall further into his chest, gripping his perfectly ironed shirt, ruining it.

He pulls away all too soon, no doubt doing this to you on purpose. It was 7am and you were already whimpering into his parted lips.

“I-I’ll miss you.” You admit, heart crashing into your ribs. 

You hadn’t meant to say it but he was making your brain foggy, your thoughts were jumbled together and you just let it slip past your lips. Charlie stares at you, red lips swollen like petals, cheeks matching, hair perfectly in place with your help nothing but fifteen minutes earlier. It feels like a lifetime has passed before he says anything back to you. The taxi honks outside on the curb.

“I’ll… I’ll miss you more.”

_CHRISTMAS EVE - UPSTATE NEW YORK_

It was relieving to be away from the city, surrounded by more wilderness, more foliage, more trees, more animals. A literal breath of fresh air that wasn’t tainted by sewage and the ever present scent of smoke coming from somewhere or someone.

You loved coming up here. Escaping. You hadn’t been back home since last Christmas. You moved away when you were quite young, the relationship you had with your parents was complicated, clashing personalities, it was difficult to understand each other when you were younger but there was clarity that came with age. They finally respected you, and you finally respected them as well, understanding them better.

You think spending so much time with Charlie and Henry gave you an insight into parenthood that you had never been privy too beforehand. You were thankful for that, not only did you appreciate your parents more, but now parenthood had many more benefits that you had never considered before. _Magical, rewarding, fulfilling._

Charlie kind of made you feel that way too.

It was still awkward at times with your parents, that was unavoidable. No siblings around meant all eyes were on you. They were asking for too many details, prying too deep and you just never felt comfortable indulging in yourself this much. But you always came prepared, it was the holidays after all, things always got weird.

After Christmas Eve dinner, your parents invited you out on a walk with them around their little town. They did this every night apparently, just walking together, talking. It was cute, endearing. You declined their offer, however. Thankfully you weren’t sixteen anymore, and your parents didn’t press you any further to come along with them like they used to.

They’d be back in thirty minutes.

That gave you thirty minutes to call Charlie. Just as he instructed.

Earlier this evening, as your parents were beginning to prepare dinner, Charlie’s family was just finishing lunch out in California. A perfect time for a perfect distraction, or intrusion. 

You had packed a few sets of the new lingerie Charlie had bought you, not knowing what he would want to see on you or how often you should switch it up. You nearly brought all of them but didn’t want to take up too much space in your luggage and be suspicious.

You put one on that you thought Charlie was particularly fond of, a skimpy little number that revealed more skin than hid, it’s colour complimenting your skin like it was made for you, made to hug your figure in all the right places. You forgot that Charlie had such a visual mind sometimes, he knew exactly what you would look good in.

Nervous and a bit shaky, you tucked yourself away into your childhood bedroom to take your pictures for Charlie. You felt like a teenager again.

Charlie was not pleased with the timing of your pictures, seeing as he was surrounded by family and innocently looked at his phone only to get a glimpse of your beautiful fucking body, all the blood going from his head straight to his cock. He nearly fainted. His cheeks lit up like Nicole’s Christmas tree and he stumbled from his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be more occupied with paying attention to Henry than to notice him sprint to the bathroom to scold you over text.

That was hours ago. Charlie had told you to call him exactly at 11pm eastern time. That was only 8pm where he was but he said it worked out perfectly so you didn’t argue. You just waited patiently on your bed, number dialed on your phone and ready to call, all the clock head to do was strike eleven.

Finally, the clocks ding around the house, your thumb flies across your screen and you hold the phone up to your ear, worrying the flesh of your lip between your teeth. It rings once, twice, three times before you can hear his breath on the other end. It already sounds heavy.

“H-hi Charlie.”

“What are you wearing.” His voice is strained, maybe he’s already holding himself in his hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve.” You twist your fingers together nervously. Charlie grunts on the other end, a frustrated sound.

“I f-fucking told you, no pleasantries. I-it’ll only make us miss each other more-” You stayed quiet. You knew he was right, but you already missed him so much and hearing his voice was making it worse. You felt your lip tremble, you missed his arms, his warmth, his-

“Are you fucking pouting right now?” His voice was firm, sturdy, and annoyed.

“No, Charlie.” A lie.

“Good, now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“I’m wearing your favourite, the one from earlier. I’m barely covered.”

“Oh I know baby, your tits looked so _fhuuuucking_ good in those pictures you sent me.” The fluctuation in his voice was rising and falling randomly, you could picture his hand wrapped tightly around his angry cock, the head flushed red, precum dribbling out the top, just begging to be licked. _He tasted so good…_

“A-are you touching yourself?”

“No, you didn’t tell me to.”

“G-good girl, you’re so fucking good to me, you know that?” You pictured his chest, the way he flushes right in the center, between his pecs. The way the red splotches climb up, up, up his neck and onto his cheeks and up to the peaks of his ears. You thought about the heavy rise and fall of his chest as well, how fucking wide he is, how much bigger than you he is. You audibly moaned.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Y-you.”

“Be specific- _fuck_.”

“Um, your- your cock. How big it is, how big _you_ are. How it feels when you stretch me out, when you go so deep I feel you in my stomach-”

“Keep going baby, I’m… I’m so f-UHcking close.”

“I think about the first time, a-a lot. How it felt the first time you split me open- fuck Charlie you’re so big I never think you’re going to fit but I always take it, I-”

“ _Yeah_ , yeah you always take me like the good little girl you are, such a good fucking slut for me, taking my cock in that tight fucking pussy.” He sneers, you can tell he’s talking from behind clenched teeth and you moan again, loudly. Your brain short circuits, what comes out next, comes from the deepest part of you.

“Oh Daddy,-”

“What did you just call me?”

Fuck.

You hadn’t really meant to say it, you were just so caught up in the moment, the feeling, the sound of him that you completely lost your inhibitions and let it slip out. You expected him to just end the call now.

“Charlie I’m so sorry-” He cuts you off with a firm call of your name.

“I asked you a question. What… did you call me?” Your stomach flips and your insides threaten to spill past your lips and onto your floor.

“Daddy.” You say so quietly you’re not sure he even heard you.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Daddy.” Frustration laces your voice as you project the word throughout the entire upper floor of the house. He definitely hears it that time. You think you hear Charlie moan on the other end but you don’t want to be too hopeful.

“You wanna call me Daddy? Hmm? You want me to be your fucking Daddy, is that it?”

“N-no…” You’re not sure what he’s getting at, but you feel like he’s just going to torment you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me you little slut.” His breathing picks up again, his voice booming, heavy breaths between every few words. You can hear the slick of his hand as it moves quickly over his length.

“Yes! Yes I- I want you to…”

“Say it.”

“I want you to be my Daddy.” Charlie moans loudly again, his hand somehow moving faster. You can tell he’s close. You can’t believe he likes this. You love it.

“ _Yeah_ , I’ll be your _fucking Daddy_. You better fucking call me that non stop when I get back to you, my sweet little girl.” You moan this time, squeezing your thighs together, feeling your arousal trail slightly down onto your thigh. You were so distracted you hadn’t realized you’d completely soaked through your underwear.

“I will, Daddy.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

Confidence surged you. You still couldn’t believe he liked this but you finally gave in, feeding his desires. When you spoke, your voice was filled with something wicked, sickeningly sweet and most of all, evil.

“Are you going to cum for me, _Daddy_? Make a mess for me?”

You felt like you hadn’t even finished your sentence before a loud moan punched through your phone and into your ear. You moaned as well just from his release, feeling it in your mind and in your chest, squeezing your thighs again for any sort of friction. Charlie continued to moan through his release, you pictured his silky cum painting his taut abdomen and his beautiful chest. You imagined it blending in with his moles and freckles, you pictured yourself rubbing your hands through it, massaging it into his skin before licking it all up. 

He wouldn’t even have to ask, you would just do it.

“Y-you’re fucking perfect… you fucking angel.” He’s so breathless, completely spent and wasted from your voice alone. You felt so hot. You needed to relieve yourself but you didn’t know if you should ask for permission or not. Before you could even debate it, Charlie spoke again.

“Go to bed, wouldn’t want Santa catching you up like this.” You laughed softly at his comment. Static on the other end. He said your name as if to check if you were still there.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

The line went dead.

_JANUARY - BROOKLYN_

You had sent Charlie pictures nearly every night after that. And you two called each other every other night as well.

He asked it of you and you couldn’t say no to your Charlie. It was a bit tricky while you were still staying with your parents, he would simply text you and you would have to scurry off to your room or the bathroom and snap as many flattering pictures of yourself as you could. You tried to make it seem less suspicious by drinking _tons_ of water and just blaming it on your bladder.

But the new year had finally come, and you were now back home in your apartment. Charlie would be returning tonight and you were counting down the hours until you saw his taxi pull up on the curb side. You distracted yourself until then.

At around 7pm, you got an unexpected call from Charlie.

“Hi.” You felt like your smile was audible through the phone.

“Hey,” Charlie chuckled darkly, his voice always sounding deeper and richer through the receiver. “I just got in. I was wondering if you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?”

Us? He didn’t mean….

“It’s just me and Henry, Nicole’s uh, staying in LA until further notice. If you’re busy or if you can’t that’s-”

“I would love to,” The fact that Charlie would ask you to spend dinner with him and Henry warmed your heart beyond comprehension. Your weeks of loneliness suddenly dissolving into the background and becoming nothing more than a distant memory, a distant feeling. “but is Henry okay with it?”

“Of course he’s okay with it. He’s actually been talking about you quite a bit. I think he might have missed you more than I did,” Charlie choked a bit on his last words, “not that I didn’t miss you, I just meant that he, you know, Henry was-”

“It’s okay, Charlie I understood what you meant.” You giggle, finding his slight awkwardness endearing. How was it that you both were having incredible phone sex for the past two weeks and now you both sounded like teenagers calling their crush?

“So, you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.” Charlie groans at your suggestive tone.

“Don’t start now.” His voice stern, unwavering. You laugh again, more mischievous this time. You test the waters, not stepping in enough to drown... just yet.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that okay, _Daddy_?” You hear rustling on the other end of the phone and then Charlie cursing a low ‘ _fuck_!’. You think you hear Henry’s voice too, followed by more of Charlie’s now muffled voice.

“Ten minutes is fine.”

//

Henry had bombarded you at the door, he wrapped his tiny arms around your legs and hugged himself tightly to you. It took everything in you not to cry, you knelt down so you could hug him back.

“I missed you.” He dug his cheek into your shoulder. This kid was the sweetest, he would melt your heart every time.

“I missed you too, Henry. How was LA? How was Christmas? Tell me everything!”

Henry grabbed your hand and dragged you into the living room where all his new toys were laid out, ready for him to play with. As he was pulling you there, Charlie emerged from around the doorway like an angel himself. Your eyes met and you felt as if you were moving in slow motion, and not being dragged at top speed by his child.

“Hi.” You greet, almost shyly. Unsure of how to act around him with Henry present.

“Hi.” Charlie repeats, grabbing your free hand for the briefest moment, giving it a tight squeeze until it's pulled out of his grasp by Henry.

You’re not sure how long you spent playing on the floor with Henry, him retelling you the events of the last two or three weeks while Charlie sat on the couch, glancing at the two of you every now and then. You tried not to think about the position you were in, kneeling on the floor, carpet digging into your knees, Charlie sitting tall above you on the couch, looking down at you from between his parted knees. It looked like such a natural position for him, almost like he was too comfortable like this, too familiar with it. You wanted to-

The doorbell rang, making both you and Henry jump from the sharp noise.

“Henry would you like to go pay the pizza guy?” Charlie asked, already pulling his wallet from the pocket in his pants.

“Yes!” Henry shouted, jumping up from the carpet, whisking the crisp bills from his dad’s hands and running to the door to answer it. Charlie figured he had a minute or less before Henry came back.

He lifted himself from the couch, taking your jaw into his hand and bringing you to stand with him. He crashed his lips into yours, violently shoving his tongue down your throat and you had to bite back the moan that threatened to spill through your lips and into his awaiting mouth. His hands had a deadly grip on your waist and on your jaw, you only wished he would ease up because you didn’t want Henry to wonder why you both looked so flustered.

“I can’t wait until tonight.” He said against your lips, his hand on your jaw moving to trail down your throat.

“W-what’s tonight?”

“I got it!” Henry came rushing back into the living room but not before Charlie pushed himself away from you and let go of your throat and waist. It looked like nothing had happened.

“Let’s go set it up in the dining room.” Henry stomped his foot in retaliation, whining slightly.

“Nooo, Dad, can we please watch a movie with pizza?”

“Henry, we have a guest-”

“Please!”

“What movie do you want to watch?” You asked, budding in, trying to stop a tantrum in its tracks. Henry’s eyes lit up and he glanced between you and his dad.

“Have you ever seen ‘Frozen’?” You actually had, but he didn’t need to know that. You gasped.

“I haven’t!” You glanced over at Charlie. His eyes were dark but an innocent smirk pulled at his lips.

He was thinking about how this just meant it would take longer before he could finally fuck you again, a two hour movie cockblock. It had been over two weeks since he had felt your body against his, nothing to satiate him but the sound of your voice and some mediocre photos. Charlie thinks he should show you how to take some really good ones sometime soon. Not that yours didn’t _most definitely_ do the trick, he just thinks he likes the idea of directing you, positioning you...

But Charlie was also thinking about how he found it very sweet, very heartwarming to watch you bond with Henry. He loved watching you have such a good time with him and treat him like a person, not just a child. And he could tell that Henry really liked spending time with you too. Not just from how much he talked about you when you weren’t around, but the smile that lit up his face when you came over or when he went over to your place.

It was getting harder and harder to get Henry to smile like that.

You all sat down on the couch, little wooden fold up tables in front of your seat to hold your plate of pizza slices. Henry sitting between you and Charlie, of course.

Henry sang along passionately to almost every song, sometimes with bites of pizza in his mouth and Charlie would scold him for it, afraid he would choke but Henry ignored his dad’s requests, just continuing to belt out along with the characters on screen.

As the movie progressed and neared the end, you could feel Charlie getting more and more sleepy on his side of the couch. He would rearrange his sitting position every now and then and his eyes would close for minutes at a time. He looked so soft with his arms folded across his chest, his eyelashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks, his lips coming to rest in the softest little pout. You nudge Henry gently and he turns to look up at you.

“Looks like your dad’s asleep.” You giggle, pointing to Charlie. Henry immediately jumps on him, startling Charlie awake.

“Dad I can’t believe you fell asleep again!” Henry pouts, grabbing Charlie’s face between his hands and shaking him from side to side. Charlie grabs his son’s little hands to stop his efforts, sitting himself up straighter on the couch and hugging Henry to his chest.

“Mmm’wasn’t sleeping.” Henry rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get your daddy a blanket so he can get comfy for the rest of the movie.” You wink at Henry, sending him searching upstairs for the perfect blanket for his dad.

Charlie groans and drops his head on the back of the couch, his hand draping across is as well, coming to rest on the very tip of your shoulder. He wraps his fingers along your muscles, squeezing the flesh into his palm, tightly.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” _Daddy_.

His head lifts from the couch to glare at you, his stare deadly, shooting right to the deepest parts of you. _Why were you teasing him like this?_

“Dad is the dinosaur one okay?” Henry calls from up the stairs, slowly making his way down and back to the couch.

“It’s perfect, Henry. Thank you.” Charlie takes the blanket from Henry and kisses the top of his forehead before he settles back on the couch, cuddling up next to his dad.

You unpause the movie, admiring the two of them every now and then, watching Henry becoming more and more sleepy as the film nears its end. As the credits roll, Charlie removes the blanket from around himself and moves it to wrap around Henry.

“I’m going to go tuck him in.” Charlie whispers to you. You nod sweetly at the two of them. Charlie carries Henry in his arms towards the stairs before Henry grumbles, calling out your name to you back on the couch.

“Will you come too?”

You look to Charlie for guidance, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries. You’ve never been in the upstairs part of their apartment, you’ve never seen the rest of their place, Henry’s room, Charlie’s room, their bathroom. You’d never seen any of it and it all felt incredibly intimate and incredibly wrong in some way. You didn’t want to accidentally see something you shouldn’t. But Charlie just smiles back at you and nods his head gently.

“Of course, Henry.” You follow them up the stairs, smiling at Henry who smiles that shiny little kid smile at you before laying his head back down on Charlie’s shoulder, resting his eyes again.

Henry’s bedroom is exactly like you imagined it would be. Colourful blue walls, vibrant comic book patterned bed sheets, toys absolutely everywhere yet Charlie avoids them like their place on the floor has meaning, like he’s ingrained it into his mind from stepping on them too many times, muscle memory. You stay in the doorway, leaning on the door frame watching them, not wanting to intrude.

Charlie carefully lowers Henry onto his bed, tucking him in the covers and kissing his forehead. He says sweet words to his son, lulling him further to sleep and Henry smiles dopily back at him, whispering a quiet ‘ _love you, dad_.’

Charlie turns around to face you, he flicks his head in the direction of the stairway mouthing the word ‘ _go_ ’ to you, you nod and head down the stairs, waiting for him in the living room. You decide to settle yourself at the foot of the couch, sitting on your knees, feeling the burn of the carpet again and waiting for your Charlie.

He descends the stairs slowly, achingly slowly. Making you wait for it, making you feel the weight in his steps, his foot pressing into the wood, applying his weight until he shifts down another step before finally, _finally_ , making his way to you.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, you try not to let your mouth hang open as you gaze up at him, this beautiful man. Sometimes, when you look at him, you wonder if whatever god or gods were out there made him like this on purpose. Sent him here looking the way he does to taunt you, to test you. Test your strength, your will to defy him when you know there is no humanly way possible to deny this man of what he wants. And what he wants is you. _Why would you say no? How could you?_

After observing you on the floor below him, Charlie seats himself down on the couch like before, knees spread, looking down at you. You scoot closer to him, hoping he doesn’t tell you to stop. His hand comes to rest on his knee before he pats it.

“Lay your head down on me.” His voice rumbles in his chest. You think you feel it through the floorboards, through your knees, up your spine and in the pit of your stomach. You listen and scoot closer, resting your head on his bony knee, nuzzling it with your cheek and looking up at him through thick lashes. You continue looking at him as you press a tender kiss as well, just for fun.

The lights are dim in the living room, the time ticking closer to midnight, Henry asleep upstairs. You both had to be quiet, you both knew this. Charlie’s hand comes to brush against your cheekbone, he trails his index finger all along the valleys of your face and then moving into your hair, gripping the back of it into a fist before relaxing again, bringing his hand back to hold your cheek.

“I’ve missed this.” He says so quietly. You nod, biting your lip.

“Me too.” You say, eagerness beginning to fill your voice. You adjust your position, coming to lean further into him, closer to his crotch where you can tell he needs you. Charlie hums contentedly.

“Mhmmm. Tell me what exactly you missed. _Who_ you missed.” You let your hand glide over his knee, over his muscular thigh and towards his crotch, feather light touches along the fabric of his pants. You could feel how hard he was, it seemed painful.

“You. I missed your cock too... _Daddy_.”

There it was. He found what he was looking for. His hand found its way into a fist again in your hair, tugging it tightly, his head falling back against the couch as you pressed your lips over his covered cock, straining in his pants.

“You can do better than that,” he groaned, voice almost as strained as his cock yet still so forceful, “show Daddy how much you really missed him.”

You whimper at his tone, your voices both so hushed, rasped and desperate, spurring each other on much quicker than usual. Your hands, shaky with desire, reached up for his belt, grasping the cold metal into your hands and unbuckling it as quickly as you could. Only when you got to his zipper, did Charlie stop you with a light tap to your cheek.

“Teeth.” He scolded. You nodded.

You brought the zipper in between your teeth, biting down on the tiny piece of metal and slowly dragging it down over the hill his cock was creating in his pants. The heat radiating from his body was palpable, you could feel it coming onto your face the lower you dragged the zipper and the more he was revealed to you. You could also smell him, that smell that was undeniably _Charlie_ ; musky, earthy, a hit of fabric detergent and just the natural smell of his skin, like almonds in the summer. It made you dizzy, drunk off of him already.

_You hadn’t even gotten him in your mouth yet._

You nuzzled your face into his clothed crotch, feeling his hard member pressing into your cheek, you could feel it pulsing, you could feel him wanting, waiting for the moment your mouth would take his length as far back as you could. You whimpered at the thought.

“You like it? You like my cock?”

“ _Yeah_ , I love it.”

“Then show me with that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” He sneered, pulling harder on your hair. You hummed and smiled, you felt giddy, maybe you really were drunk. You nuzzled your face into his crotch one more time before bringing both of your hands up to his waist, letting your fingertips dance around his beautiful skin that lay revealed to you above the waistband, you lean up, up, up pressing the softest, delicatest kisses to his skin.

Charlie groaned, pressing on the back of your head, pushing your face further into his tummy. You left more and more kisses before you gave him a tentative bite, not letting your teeth sink in too much before you lave your tongue over the abused flesh.

“Fuck that feels- fucking good.” Charlie moaned, looking down at the new mark that would only darken itself by tomorrow as more blood rushes to the affected area. It was placed beautifully next to his hip bone. You think it looked pretty. So did he.

You finally let your fingertips dip into his waistband but not before latching your teeth onto the stretchy fabric as well, aiding your fingers in removing them. You dragged it down, down, down his skin, just until his cock sprang free and laid heavy on his lower stomach. Charlie hissed, his hips bucking slightly from the sudden freedom.

He has the prettiest cock you think you’d ever seen. You never get used to seeing it, taking it in your mouth or your cunt. The stretch is always so painfully good, you’ve come to crave it. And going without it for the past however many weeks has made you near delirious for it. You stick your tongue out and run it all along the underside right to the very tip, where a shiny, pearly bead of precum has just begun to spill over. You hum as you lick it up, eyes nearly rolling back into your head.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” Charlie grits from behind clenched teeth. You look up at him innocently, you notice that he’s clenching and unclenching his jaw like clockwork, his eyes look glassy and his cheeks are a few shades darker. He already looks so disheveled, so perfect like this.

“I can’t help it… it’s so pretty.”

“You think Daddy has a pretty cock?” You nod your head, humming, which you can’t seem to stop doing tonight, he just has you feeling so content, so safe. You don't think you could be like this with anyone else. You trace your fingers along his length, watching it bob from the slightest of touches, even Charlie tries to bite back his groans.

“Can-can I kiss it?”

“ _Please_.” You lower your head towards his length, pressing your lips so softly onto his red angry head, giving little kitten licks in between kisses which has Charlie gripping your hair like a vice, afraid you’ll float away. You like the way his stomach flexes in response to your touch, like his body is bracing himself for the tidal wave of pleasure that’s bound to hit at any moment.

You finally take the spongy pink head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before letting a few inches fall past your lips as well. Charlie’s tummy flexes even more, the v shaped muscle becoming more and more prominent and you moan onto his cock. His free hand that had been clenched into a fist comes to hold one side of your head and the other comes to meet it. He holds your head in his hands and forces you to take more of him, but not all of it just yet. You start bobbing your head up and down on his length, his hands helping you find his ideal speed.

“Fuck yes, _oh my god_ , j-just like that-” Charlie moans your name, his fingernails digging into your scalp making you moan on his cock again, only making him dig deeper, pressing your head further down his length, forcing you to take him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Gonna let Daddy f-fuck that pretty little whore mouth of yours?” You let your jaw go slack more than it already has and do your best to nod with his cock half way down your throat, tears already beginning to brim in the corner of your eyes. Charlie starts lifting his hips off the couch slightly, all the while moving your head further up and down his cock, forcing it down your throat as far as it’ll go without you making obscenely loud gagging noises.

His son was asleep right upstairs, after all.

You let your eyes roll back into your head, letting Charlie take control and just fuck his cock into your mouth like you know he needs to, like he knows you need it too. It’s been too fucking long. Too fucking long since he’s had you like this. At his disposal, his little plaything to do whatever he pleases with. And you fucking love it.

The cool, sharp metal of his unzipped zipper digs into your jaw and occasionally your neck, biting into your skin and scratching your skin when Charlie lifts his hips up particularly high but you don’t care. In fact, you welcome the pain, embracing it as a mark of Charlie’s rough loving. You hope it draws blood.

“ _Fuck_ , your mouth i-is so fucking perfect, so warm... I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, his eyes screw shut and you can feel his cock growing impossibly harder. He looks down at you, his face twisted in absolute pleasure as he loses himself in your tight little mouth. He pulls you off his cock with all of his strength. A trail of saliva connecting your spit swollen lips to the head of his cock. You start pumping him quickly with your fist.

“No-no wait I don’t…”

“I want it Charlie, please,” Charlie throws his head back, moaning your name, “cum in my mouth... _please_.”

You nearly whine that last part. Charlie grabs your hair and tugs it, shaking your head a bit.

“I want to fuck you, I don’t wanna cum yet- _FUCK_!” You hadn’t stopped your hand movements, your fist moving faster over his cock while he fights his release.

“You can fuck me tomorrow.” You say quickly before attaching your lips around the head of his cock, sucking on it until you feel his thighs, abdomen, hands, mind and soul tense up before he bites back his guttural moans, letting them rumble through his chest like thunder passing, before spilling himself onto your tongue. You moan as it lands, letting it slide down your throat as you taste him, taste all of him until he’s completely drained.

You look up at him through heavy lashes, coated thick in tears that have streamed down your cheeks. Chest heaving, abdomen pulled taught, cheeks incredibly flushed, lips swollen, eyes heavy and tired. Completely spent. He looked so beautiful, your Charlie. So beautiful like this.

“S-show me.” His hand reaches for your jaw, pinching your cheeks to force your jaw and mouth open. You stick your tongue to show him. All gone, you swallowed all of his cum, for him.

“ _Good girl_.” He whispered, patting your cheek affectionately. You smiled sweetly at him, coming up with your hands resting your weight on his thighs, pressing your swollen lips to his. As you extend your knees to stand, you feel the ache in the joints, the bruises already present, no doubt. You loved the pain. Your lips glide effortlessly across each other, so tired, so worn out but always wanting.

“Stay, please.” He says against your lips. You shake your head, no. It was a simple answer. A simple predicament.

“Henry.” 

You pull back to look into Charlie’s eyes, he pulls you into his lap and he winces as you apply just a bit too much weight onto the base of his cock. You look into his eyes, already so sad at the idea of you leaving. But Henry would ask too many questions in the morning.

_Why is the nice lady from next door still here, Dad?_

_Did she stay the night, Dad?_

_Did she sleep in your bed, Dad?_

_You and Mom’s bed, Dad?_

“I know, I know.” Charlie says, defeated. He presses you into his chest, hugging you to him tightly, tighter than you were expecting. It was a hopeful thought. He understood why it couldn’t happen, couldn’t work. Maybe he just wanted you to entertain the idea for a minute with him. Maybe it would happen one day.

“I really did miss you.” He whispers into your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large, warm hand, pressing you further into the nook of his neck.

“I did too. I really missed you too, Charlie.”

_MARCH - BROOKLYN_

Charlie was currently back from his third visit to Los Angeles, hunting burroughs for the perfect new home for himself and for Henry. Maybe for you as well, but Charlie didn’t like to dwell on that for too long, he couldn’t allow himself such hopeful thoughts, he would only be let down. 

Would you really want to move in with him? Was that moving too quickly? Would you think he was insane? Crazy? Obsessed? The truth was, he is all of those things; insane, crazy, obsessed with you. He couldn’t help it, no. Not when it came to you.

He would always be desperate for your affection, your attention.

Things were escalating with the divroce. Nicole and Charlie had turned bitter, viscous, backstabbing, conniving. Both fighting for a child who has no intention of hurting anyone, certainly not his mother or father.

Henry had no idea what weight his actions or words held, no idea what it meant when someone came over to observe him and his dad, or him and his mom. When they sent someone out to New York to watch him there, sometimes you would be over too. They asked you so many questions, he didn’t understand why. _Why were strangers suddenly so involved in every little thing his parents did? Were they in trouble? Were they bad people? Was he a bad kid? Did they hate him?_

Henry pouts as you hold his hand, walking up the driveway to the new apartment Charlie was almost one hundred percent decided on renting. It was in more of a family oriented neighbourhood, still close to his school. Somehow, it had a decent sized backyard (which you had never heard of in New York, even Brooklyn), three bedrooms, an office, a beautiful kitchen, it was basically perfect in Charlie’s eyes.

The first time he visited it back in February, he sent you dozens of pictures and little videos when he had gone alone. He quickly booked another appointment for you to go and look at him with it so he could get your opinion. He made it very clear how important your opinion was to him on this matter, he was always asking you questions about the apartment, even bringing it up randomly. He would scroll through the pictures he had taken, scrutinizing every detail and ask you about it.

_Do you think the backyard is big enough?_

_What if I end up getting Henry a dog? Would there be enough space for that?_

_Do you really like the kitchen? Be honest._

_What about the office room? Do I really need that? Is that too much?_

_What about the guest bedroom?_

You wonder if he was so invested in your opinion because he trusted you, or because he wanted you to move in with them. Neither of you had ever spoken about it before, never had _that_ conversation. And even if you did, Henry would always have the final say. If he didn’t want you living with them, well, that was that. You couldn’t argue with Henry, not when his childhood and upbringing was in question. Especially after this divorce. Charlie would do anything for him. Even if it meant risking you.

//

Charlie ended up getting the house he had been eyeing for nearly a month.

Him and Henry would restart here, no painful memories embedded in the walls, in the flooring, in the holes in the walls, the slammed door frames, the windows that threatened to shatter from all the screaming and crying. None of that was here, it would never be here. None of that would happen again.

Charlie hadn’t asked you to move in.

And you hadn’t necessarily been waiting on him asking either.

You were already coming over pretty frequently. And not just on account of Charlie, Henry still loved seeing you and hanging out with you. You still babysat him when things at the theatre ran late. 

When Nicole moved to LA, Charlie was thrown full force into his work. Forced to recast, rework, and rewrite so many things that she had just left hanging. You watched Henry those nights, stayed until Charlie got home and then took the subway back to your place, next to their now vacant apartment.

You were so lonely those nights you couldn’t sleepover at Charlie’s. You missed his warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much comfort you got knowing he was just next door, just beyond a thick wall. You could have touched it and felt his presence radiating through. But now, nothing. It was cold, dark, empty, meaningless.

And because Charlie had been so overworked for the past few months, the stress was starting to get to him. The constant obstacles and backtracking in the theatre production. The random calls from Nicole, his lawyer, the random flights down to LA, the weeks Henry spent away from him, the nights he lost himself in you, using you as an outlet. You let him, you liked it when he took it out on you, you liked how rough he would get, all that pent up anger being pounded out into your hot cunt. You loved it. Loved when he got mad, frustrated. You were always there for him. You would always be there for him, you hoped he knew that.

But what you didn’t love, was when he started neglecting you.

He would go days sometimes without calling you, so much as even texting you. You would get no word from him for a couple of days and sometimes you would just randomly piece together that he was in LA and he just forgot to tell you. You tried to not let it upset you, you couldn’t imagine what he was going through, the stress of the divorce, the potential of losing Henry, his whole life hanging by a thread. It really wasn’t his fault that he just forgot to mention it to you.

Sometimes he would lash out at you, a small comment or action rubbing him the wrong way and he would erupt, say something he didn’t mean or just walk out on you. Times when things go heated, you tried your best to keep you composure for his sake. He didn’t need you being upset at him too on top of everything else, so you kept it in, for Charlie.

Sometimes he would lash out before you two went out with his theatre friends. He would smile and hug everyone, but kept somewhat of a distance from you. Barely speaking to you, barely including you in the conversation unless someone else asked you a question or directly addressed you. What did you look like to them? Friends? Friends with benefits? Did you look like his whore? The babysitter that he was secretly fucking?

_You kind of were._

You drank a lot that night. He fucked you when you got back to his new place. He fell asleep quickly after. You pulled on your long sleeve shirt and nice dress pants that you had been wearing that night after laying next to his warm, sleeping body for thirty minutes, debating, thinking, worrying, dying inside.

You stood up and walked to the door, you looked back to find him watching you. You nervously tugged at your sleeves, staring back at him until he turned around, pushing his face into the pillow, as if silently willing you to leave. You left. You called a taxi and left. You didn’t sleep that night.

//

You think it was because he told you he was going to Los Angeles again.

Maybe he mentioned Nicole? His lawyer? Something about Henry? The theatre? 

You couldn’t remember what started all of this yelling, smashing. You were over at the new place, helping Charlie organize some things for Henry before he came back with him the next time he went out to LA again, which was in a few days.

Charlie was pissed and this time, you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold your calm resolve for him.

“Charlie if you just need some space from me tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings, I understand.” You decide to try and change the subject, maybe just cutting to the chase. Offering him what you think he wants, alone time. Time away from you, from everything. There’s no way he doesn’t need a break.

You hated how quickly you would give everything up for him. You would do anything for him, anything he asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, eyes squinting in confusion. You sigh, running a hand down your face, your patience was running thin and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

“Everytime you see me you manage to get frustrated or mad about something. I just don’t want to give you more problems than you already have. I know you’ve been really stressed.”

“Elaborate, please.” His voice was clipped as he put his hands on his hips, stopping what he was doing and turning to you, seemingly giving you more attention than he had in weeks. You huff, not sure how to explain this to him.

“Charlie I-”

“No, what the fuck are you trying to say? That if I fucking ended things you would just leave? No questions asked?” His voice boomed, echoing off the newly painted walls, shaking the frames of yours and Henry’s dinosaur paintings from all those months ago. 

He takes a step closer to you, you take one back, then another just for good measure. Your back hits the wall and you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as best as you can with him staring at you with those eyes. _Those fucking eyes._ They still managed to twinkle even when he was angry.

“I- I would… for Henry. You put Henry first, I put Henry first. If he wanted me gone-”

“He doesn’t fucking want you gone, you know that.” Charlie scoffed, walking closer to you, his face red in frustration, maybe anger. He says your name, it's never sounded so sad.

“Why are you lying to me?” He’s a step away from you now, chest heaving with laboured breaths. He’s trying to compose himself, you can tell. Trying to stay calm but his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m not, I w-wouldn’t lie to you, Charlie.”

“You would leave me?” You nod your head, lip trembling, tears burning, stinging in your eyes, your breathing becoming heavy too. _Was this it?_

“If that’s what you wanted, if you want me to leave I would.”

“Why? Why would you do something so fucking stupid?” His lip is also trembling, you feel like he’s about to spit in your face, yell at you for being such an idiotic little girl. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, this was so fucked. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like when he got frustrated, you resented the fact that you did.

You couldn’t think straight, the words leaving your mouth didn’t feel your own, like you were speaking some other language, possessed by a foreign being.

“Be-because…” Bile rising in your throat, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Fucking why? Tell me why!” He was yelling, his face in yours and his voice breaking.

“Because I… because I love-”

And then Charlie was kissing you.

_Charlie was kissing you._

His tongue swiped into your mouth like he was trying to strangle you with it. His hands came to your cheeks and pressed your body flush against his and the wall, sandwiched between the two. He was hard, you could feel his cock pressing into your stomach as he rolled his hips into you, you moaned into his mouth, tears spilling down your cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

“Don’t say it… don’t- fucking say it.” He said against your lips, voice so hush, so quiet and scared.

“Why? Why are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not fucking afraid of you.” He says, confused, angry, lips rough on your own. He keeps trying to kiss you, you don’t want to push him away but you try, you push on his tough chest, his heart beating wildly in its cage.

“Yes you are. You keep pushing me away.” You cry, hiccupping on a ragged sob that leaves your chest, as you ironically try to push him away from you. Charlie tries to kiss you through it, trying to suffocate you.

“I’m not.” He fights.

“You are.”

“I’m not-” You push, harder this time. He stumbles back, lips already swollen, his eyes are wet, glossy too. Like yours.

“You are!” You yell, voice breaking, choking on your tears. “Don’t act like you haven’t been treating me differently for the past month.”

When Charlie says nothing, you continue.

“You don’t call me, you don’t text me, I only come over to babysit Henry when he’s here and when he’s in LA you just fuck me and then get mad about something and leave. When we go out you don’t look at me, you don’t touch me-” Your voice falters, you’re not sure you can go on with the way the sobs wrack through your chest and into the rest of your body. You feel weak, like you might collapse into the ground. You wish you would, you wish the floor would just swallow you up and you could disappear.

Charlie sees red. His fists shake, clenched into fists at his side after you’ve pushed him away. His palms burn to touch you. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should listen to what you’re saying, let you talk, remind him how much he’s been hurting you. He knows what he’s doing, he’s not stupid.

He wasn’t trying to push you away, he definitely wasn’t doing it on purpose. But he was sabotaging himself, sabotaging everything because he felt he didn’t deserve you. He was a bad father, a selfish person for wanting to take Henry away from his mother, for wanting Henry to himself, a bad person for hating Nicole, a woman he once loved.

_Love._

It was all because of love wasn’t it? Charlie wants to laugh at the thought. Wants to laugh and scream and yell and hit something at the thought of _stupid fucking love_. Was he really becoming that nihilistic already?

Would he come to hate you like how he hates Nicole? Would you come to hate him the way he hates himself? The way Henry probably hates him? The way his parents hated him-

His knees hit a hard surface, blistering, blinding pain shooting up his legs. He’s collapsed onto the floor before he’s even aware of it. Unaware of the sobs that push and pull at his lungs, forcing his chest to heave in the oxygen before choking it back out along with spit and tears. 

He’s crying. You’re crying. Fuck, how did it come to this. This was all too familiar. He feels numb.

How could he love you when love was the scariest thing? When love was the most frightening emotion he had ever experienced. Everything that’s happened to him for the past two fucking years was because of love. Love would ruin everything. It always did. But he couldn’t…. he couldn’t lose-

“Y-you… you can’t- leave me.” He chokes, hands planted shakily on the floor, holding his upper body up, his arms weak.

You… you’ve never seen Charlie like this. And honestly? It scares you. Sure, you’ve heard him yell, scream, cry at Nicole, his lawyer over the phone. But this was different. This was visceral, burning desire, regret, shame, embarrassment… this was everything coming crashing down around him at once.

_Fuck_.

This is what you’ve been trying to avoid over the past month. That’s why you’ve tiptoed around him, letting him get angry, letting him yell, letting him ignore you, use you, fuck you and ask for nothing in return. You were avoiding this.

But maybe you had just prolonged the explosion? Let enough gas build up before it eventually burst into flames.

_Eventually_ …

You had definitely made this worse, by ignoring it you’ve let it fester, let it rise and rise and rise, just pushing down the lid for your own sake. Maybe it was both of your own faults? You don’t know, you don’t care. This was bound to happen at some point. And it just so happened to be today. All you really care about is Charlie.

You kneel down on the floor in front of him, resting your palm on the floor like he has, letting your pinky finger graze against his. The slightest of touch as to not scare him off. He flinches, his head still hung low, eyes screwed shut.

You place your hand on top of his, feeling his burning skin, testing the waters. He doesn’t pull back so you continue your efforts. You intertwine your fingers with his, slowly, slowly lifting his hand up off the ground and closer to you. He still doesn’t look up. You keep moving his hand until it’s on your chest, covering your left breast. Only then does he look up, searching your eyes.

He feels it then. That same thing he felt the first time… the first time he had you. Your beating heart, pumping wildly in your chest just like his was. Did you know? Did you know what you did to him? Did you know how much he needed you, how much he thinks of you? Did you know that he… that he-

“I won’t.” You say, cutting him off mid thought. His hand clutches onto you through the fabric of your shirt, trying to reach through you and grab your heart into his hands. He wants to pull it from you, keep it for himself and lock it away, make sure you never fucking leave him. He was so selfish.

“I won’t leave you Charlie.” You say again when he says nothing, just watching his hand twist into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it strangely until he’s rid you of it. He places his hand back on your chest, feeling your heart better now through the barrier of only your flesh.

“I…. I’m sorry.” “You said you wouldn’t lie to me?” It feels like the first thing he’s said in hours, his voice rough around the edges, gooey in the middle. His post-yelling voice, you knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Then why… why would you even say that? That you would leave me?”

“Because if that’s what you wanted, what you needed… I would do it. I would do anything you wanted, anything for you, Charlie.”

“Why?” He couldn’t understand. There was no fathamobale reason as to why he would deserve such devotion. Especially from you. 

You’re quiet, unsure of how to answer him. This was the same back and forth you both had before he exploded, when you almost told him you… that you lo-

“I-I don’t know how to answer… you told me not to say it.” You whimper, tears spilling from your eyes again. His hand comes to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the tear. You nuzzle into his hand, kissing his palm. You stay there for a moment, resting your face in his palm, feeling his warmth radiating from his hands, letting a silence wash over the two of you. It was sort of peaceful. A chaotic peace.

“Charlie, I-”

“Don’t... don’t say it.” You cry some more, tears spilling. His hand moves to your throat, squeezing gently, you find it oddly comforting.

“But I want to, I want to say it, _please_.” You grab the wrist of the hand holding your throat, squeezing his flesh, _asking_.

“No.”

“Charlie-”

“I said no.” He grabs your jaw, shaking you from side to side a little. You whimper, eyes screwing shut, pushing more tears past the precipice. He pulls you into his lap, you’re putty in his hands, letting him move you however he needs to move you. He holds you in his arms, your legs wrap around his waist and his legs bring him to stand up somehow, his strength always shocking you.

“You can’t say it... you can’t leave.” He continues, you sniffle, hiding your face in his neck, grabbing onto his hair as he carries you somewhere through the apartment, up some stairs…

“I’m sorry, Charlie, I’m- sorry.” You hiccup and cry into his neck, wetting the skin. You press your lips over the newly wet skin, feeling his heartbeat flutter underneath, teeth grazing the thin flesh.

Suddenly he’s lowering you down, down, down until you come in contact with a soft surface, his mattress. Charlie crawls on top of you, you let him rest between your thighs, keeping your legs up high on his waist.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me.” You shake your head from side to side in agreement with him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. His hand trails down the length of your body roughly, burning your flesh in its unforgiving path. You’re left only in your jeans since he removed your shirt when you were still downstairs.

“I won’t, I-I didn’t mean-” You can barely form a proper sentence, choking on your own tears and sadness that wrack through your mind and body. Charlie’s hand in already palming your sex through the thick denim you wear, you whimper, trying to squeeze your thighs together but his body blocks them.

“Stop talking.” He barely gets out the words before he’s pressing his lips to yours again, letting his lips glide against your wobbly and swollen ones. You breathe each other in, letting your tongues dance across one anothers as you gasp and cry into his mouth. It’s all teeth and all tongue, it’s messy, clumsy, desperate, burning. You don’t care, he doesn’t either when your teeth clack against each other, nibbling on lips, biting sometimes.

Charlie flips you over underneath him so that you face the sheets, sliding down your body and roughly tugging down your jeans along with your underwear in one swift motion. You gasp as your wet cunt comes in contact with the cool air of the darkening day. Charlie stands on his knees behind you, pulling your ass up higher, higher, higher until he’s satisfied. His cheeks are warm, his ears pink at the peaks. Before either of you even have time to think, his hand comes down harshly onto your right ass cheek, you cry out, gripping the sheets by your head.

“Ch-Charlie!” You gasp, earning you another smack to your other cheek. You push your head down into the covers, trying to muffle your cries and moans as he keeps going.

His smacks you again, and again, and again and again until you’re a sobbing mess in the sheets. Words, languages lost to you in your muddled brain. A pool of spit near your mouth soaked into the white fabric, only a wet spot remaining to show for evidence of your euphoria. You can feel the imprint of his hand on your ass, you know it's burning red, you know the skin is raised and puffy. You fucking love it.

Charlie’s chest is heaving, breaths labored as he takes it all out on you like he knows you need it, knows you love it. He does too; love it and need it. The way your ass gets so much brighter, how big the imprint he’s left on you is. How fucking perfect you are for him... He’s pulling off his shirt before he knows it, shedding his pants too until he’s in nothing but his underwear. You’ve stayed exactly where you are, not daring to move a muscle since he hasn’t instructed you otherwise.

“So now you listen.” Charlie mutters to himself, it's barely audible to you since the blood is coursing so loudly through your veins, through your ears. You’re buzzing.

Charlie pushes you back down on the mattress so you lay completely flat. He pulls your jeans and underwear down the rest of your legs until you lay there bare before him. He inhales sharply at the sight of you. He could see the way you glisten for him, he could feel it on his hand when he had spanked you, your arousal having begun to trail down the tops of your thighs, he moaned at the sight.

His hand comes flying down, this time spanking you roughly on your pussy causing you to lurch forward into the sheets, crying out his name pathetically again. He leans over you, keeping his hand clutched tightly around your cunt, feeling your juices seep between his fingers, you moan and try to press back into his hand but he just slaps it again, your eyes screwing shut. He’s nearly got his entire weight on top of you, his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he comes close to your face.

“You’re so fucking wet for me… you want it that badly?” You nod your head vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, Charlie I want you, I-I need you so badly, _please_.”

“Hmmm, what do you need?”

“Anything, y-your fingers…”

“Where”

“... in me, in me please.” You’re completely desperate, your crying and sobbing from earlier making you especially weak to his ways, his voice, his body. God, he could do anything to you, and you would let him, you would beg him, you would thank him.

Slowly, Charlie sinks one thick finger into your soaking cunt. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pumps it slowly, in and out, in and out of you. You try and push your hips back to meet the small thrust of his finger but he keeps you pinned down.

Charlie could feel you clenching around his single digit and he groaned next to your ear, nibbling on the soft lobe as he continued his ministrations. You whined, withered underneath the weight of his body, his hot chest pressing into your back, pressing you into the mattress. 

“Charlie, please I-”

“What? You need more? You need more from me?”

“ _Please_.” Charlie draws his index finger out of you before joining it with his middle one, probing your entrance teasingly, swirling his fingers around it but never going in.

“Fuck-”

“Do you think you deserve it?” _He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve you, your pussy, none of it. He was only projecting his worthlessness onto you. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t._

“N-no.” You say, tears welling in your eyes from a multitude of things. Overstimulation being one of them. You tried to get your hips to stop pressing into his hand but it was so hard when the temptation was right there.

“No… you don’t.” He kisses the tears that slip from your eye, pressing a finger to your mouth and you gladly take it in, laving your tongue around his salty, rough skin. His two fingers at your entrance finally push in deeper, causing you to cry out around his finger that was in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips.

Then he starts pumping, quickly, and you can’t stop the way your hips push into his hand, trying to meet him halfway through his thrusts, needing more so badly. You moan around his fingers, he echoes your moans back into your ear. You can feel his cock filling out, getting harder and harder against the back of your legs where it still lays confined in his underwear.

All too quickly he pulls his fingers from you and spanks your pussy again, you choke on a cry around the finger that’s still in your mouth. You’re already wrecked, and he’s nowhere near done with you.

“You only get to cum on my cock, understand?” You nod your head with vigour, eyes trying to meet his from where he’s positioned, behind you yet over top of you. You can feel him moving around, pulling his fingers from your mouth and his underwear off as best as he can without moving too far away from you.

“I understand, Charlie.” You cry, the tears unrelenting at this point, beyond your control.

_Fuck_ , what weas he doing? Why was he doing this now?

What other way did he really have though, to show you what you mean to him? Definitely not words, no. No matter how much he writes for the theatre, words could never come close to describing what he feels for you, what he needs from you, wants from you, what he wants to give to you, tell you, provide you. None of it, no language would do.

Nothing would come closer to his body on you, in you, moving in tandem with you, hearts so close together that he loses sense of himself and just feels you wrapped so tightly around him in every sense. That’s the only way he could show you, the only way he could tell you.

He grabs his cock in his hand, pumping himself slowly and rests his head on your shoulder, groaning into your skin at the sensation. “Beg.” He spits, his lips moving against your flesh. He rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds and you yelp, pressing your hips back but he anticipated it, drawing his hips back, away from you.

“Charlie, please I-I need you so badly, I’ve never wanted… anything else but you, I just- please, I need you so bad, I-I, l...love-”

“I told you not to fucking say it.” He grits from behind clenched teeth, slapping your ass harshly and you let a sob leave your lips. The burn was so good.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it-” You whine, fists bunching up the sheets with a grip so deadly your skin is turning white. He lets his head drop to your shoulder again, his own eyes screwing shut, trying to will his own tears away as he continues to run his cock along your pleading entrance, collecting whatever arousal has seeped out of you.

“ _Fuuuck_ , perfect little pussy... so desperate for my cock, isn’t it?” He mutters, almost to himself as he watches the way his cock moves between your glistening folds. Unashamed, you keep crying, moaning at the feeling of his big cock so close to where you need him most, nodding your head.

“Please, Charlie I need you inside m- fuck, just put it in, _please_ -”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel him press in with the tip, letting the spongy head break through your folds and _slightly_ dip into your entrance. Your fists clench and unclench against the sheets. With a sharp ‘ _fuck_ ’ Charlie presses the rest of his long, thick cock into you, both of you moaning and breathing in one another.

He lets his cock sit in you, coming to interlock his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, elongating both of your bodies but mostly yours, from how much longer his body is. Only then does he start snapping his hips into yours, letting his thrusts punch out your moans and cries from your chest.

At this angle, he’s hitting places inside of you so deep you never thought you could fathom, filling you up to the brim, you swear you can feel him in your stomach, punching your guts into your throat with every violent thrust.

You moan his name without relent, it’s the only thing you could possibly ever know. _Charliecharliecharliecharliecharlie_ to infinity. You never wanted to know anything else, no other thought suddenly as interesting as him. He was the only thing that mattered. The way his cock filled you was dizzying, mind-numbing, and bone-shattering.

“You always need me so badly, you could never leave me, never leave this cock. Desperate little slut.” Charlie groans, head resting on your back as his powerful thrusts push you up the bed. He latches a hand around one of your hips, trying to keep you pinned down.

“You would never fucking leave me, you’d never fucking do it.” He continues, maybe to himself. You can feel him nuzzling his face into the skin on your shoulder, kissing and biting the skin, leaving a mark in his wake like he always does.

“I won’t, Charlie- I won’t, I promise.” You hiccup, his thrusts unrelenting in their assault. You could feel your release building, that bright white feeling rising inside of you. The only sounds in the room were your breathy moans, Charlie’s growls and the loud slap of skin on skin, his hips colliding with your ass every time.

“Dont ever say that s-shit again- dont ever fucking leave me. Don’t - ever. Fucking. Leave.” He growled, biting your shoulder and punctuating his words with harsher thrusts, _fucking_ into you.

“I’m s-sorry Charlie-” You’re cut off by a sensation on your back. _Hot, wet, slippery._ Charlie sniffles. 

He’s crying, burning holes into your flesh as they land on your back. Your own eyes well up all over again. The pleasure of his cock deep, deep, deep inside you and the emotions flowing through both of you was overwhelming, overstimulating, your mind was going blank, you felt like you would black out.

You hear it then, his quiet cries, the way his chest shakes as he finally lets it go, lets it out. And then he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grabbing one of your ankles and one side of your hip, flipping you over quickly, hiking your legs back up around his waist and continuing his punishing, relentless pace. You moan embarrassingly loudly as you watch the way his stomach flexes into you, the way his chest tightens and constricts, the flush that spreads from in between his marvelous pecs to his cheeks, his dark wet eyes, the red that fills them, the way his eyelashes clump together, making them look longer, darker, the dark halo of hair that frames his face. Fuck.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

It was beyond you at this point, you couldn’t stop what was already put into motion.

“Oh, Charlie…” You cry, chest arching into his, your nails scraping his biceps. He moans at the pain, dropping his forehead to yours. You’ve never heard him moan like this, never seen him cry like this, never seen him so lost and completely gone in _you_.

Even if it was a mistake.

Even if you would regret it tomorrow.

Or five minutes from now.

Or immediately afterwards.

It was the truth, your truth. His truth. It was the only thing you could ever possibly know.

“I love you.” You cry, burning tears streaming down your cheeks. Charlie’s eyes meet yours, lost, delirious, shocked.

“You… y-you can’t.” He doesn’t tell you to stop this time. Doesn’t tell you to shut up, doesn’t tell you how dumb and pathetic it is to love him. _You love him._

“I do, Charlie I-I do. _Fuck_ , I love you so fucking much.” You whine, nails biting the skin on his back. His hips never stop, he’s fucking common sense and all things rational out of your mind. All you know is him. All you ever want to know is him, _Charlie_.

His chin wobbles, moans escape past his lips as he refuses to stop fucking you, his cock so fucking hard it hurts him, almost more than this. Almost more than the chant that has started to leave your lips, the floodgates have been opened and you can’t stop your confession now.

“I love you, I love you- _shit_ , Charlie I love you, I love you so much, I love your fucking cock, _fuck_!” You couldn't stop, you felt like you could never stop at this point. You never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop telling him. _You loved him, you loved him, you loved him._

“You’re… you’re not real… you’re- _fuck_ , too fucking good for m-me.” Charlie gasps, his hips speeding up, his cock growing harder somehow. You feel him pulse inside of you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, mouth hanging agape, no sound being emitted from you. Charlie moves his lips down to your exposed throat, kissing and sucking on the delicate skin before wrapping a firm hand around it, not squeezing too tight.

“ _Yours_.” You manage to choke out, gripping onto his wrist that's at your throat with all the strength you had with your body gone pleasure weak. Charlie moans your name, it makes you cry more.

“I’m yours, Charlie.” You manage to say more clearly, using all your willpower to look him in the eyes. His eyes are blown black, the dark circles underneath them so, so pigmented. You could feel the crescendo building, he was about to break. His lips were glossy, spit slicked and roughly bitten.

“You’re mine.” He confirms, more to himself than to you. He just… he felt like he could never be sure enough. Like he would never believe that you were his. That you were in love with him.

You nod your head, hands interlocking behind his head, gripping tightly into his hair.

“I’m yours, _yours_.” You keen, hips rolling into his as you both neared your release. His hand around your throat keeps you pinned in place as his fucks you into the mattress, moaning, groaning, crying your name. The slight added pressure makes you see stars, your pussy flutters around his cock and your back arches, pressing your chest into his but Charlie keeps you exactly where you are, your body convulsing as you cum, cum, cum around his cock, screaming his name.

“M’gonna cum, gonna f- _fucking_ cum s-so deep inside, fill you up-”

“Please, Charlie.” You whine, dumb from the high that he continues to fuck you through, tears stained on the skin of your cheeks. You tug on his hair roughly, meeting his thrusts with a roll of your hips and that sends Charlie over the edge.

“ _Fhuuuck_ -” He lifts his head slightly, to look at you better as he splits you open one final time, his cock stilling in the deepest parts of you before he cums so fucking deep inside your pussy with the most guttural moan.

He fucks his cum back in to you until it’s seeping back out onto his cock. He groans so loudly you feel it in your bones. His hands wrap around your upper body, holding you tightly as he spins to lay on the mattress, holding your body to his chest, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

Charlie gives you a small thrust, pushing and mixing his cum with yours one final time. You gasp and cling to him, your nails digging slightly into his muscular pec at the sensation, the delicious burn. You feel so incredibly full, so full of your Charlie. _You love him._

“I lo-”

“I love you.”

Your heart must have stopped beating, your lungs, forgotten their functionality, your brain short circuited, your limbs incapacitated.

You looked up at him with those big, shiny wet eyes. You looked like a fawn, lost on the side of the road who just found someone who could help them. Someone kind, someone gentle, honest, safe, warm. Someone worth loving. He was worth loving. _Charlie was worth loving._

But you already knew that.

He said it again, so low in the dark room, the dark night, eclipsed with spilled feelings and sweat, tears too. So many fucking tears. His voice so low it almost didn’t register, the deep vibrato rumbling your insides and warming you up all over again. 

He said it with you curled up on his chest, he said it again when you moved up his body to press your face into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to his bruised skin, he said it as tears spilled from your eyes. He would say it as you fell asleep on him in the deadly hours of the night and again in the morning when you woke. He would remind you constantly, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in. Not anymore.

He would tell you he loves you a million and one times from then on, until you didn’t want to hear it from him anymore. 


End file.
